"Mr. Thompson, it occurs to me that you are a snail. A snail whose sense of humor went on holiday and never did return."
100% accurate quote definitely accurate 100%.
"I’ve wondered […] if Fallon hadn’t a touch of the inferiority complex, shown in part by his derisive attitude towards authority and his penchant for punishing himself by keeping himself always broke and in trouble, and by his morbid affairs with many women. Fallon ruined himself just as surely as if he had set about the job deliberately."
— Donald Henderson Clarke, In the Reign of Rothstein
WELL HI. traveling time has ended, returning has occurred, and i s’pose what i am saying is i’m BACK. was upper Michigan-ing with mein sister and parents (with brief appearances by sister’s husband and by our youngest brother), staying at ehhh four different campgrounds, soooo that was a thing. lotta lakes, lotta trees, lotta wandering and hiking. some things about the trip…
- basically started off the trip by jumping into Lake Michigan fully clothed and swimming around for fuck if i know how long. i hadn’t intended to swim just then, but damn, i went for a look and that water calls. 500000% worth it. also, trekking back to the campsite sopping wet is kind of fun.
- and y’know what? every time i swam, i swam alone, and had space and water and thinking and not-thinking to myself. and that is one of my very favorite things.
- many trees were climbed. sometimes they said ‘here have some sap on your hands.’ oops.
- we did an inordinate amount of singing and riffing on ‘Who Stole the Kishka’ and ‘The Mickey Mouse Polka.’ those were basically our theme songs this trip. and the word of the trip was smaczny.
- okay, actually, we did an awful lot of singing, period. which is basically expected with our dumbass selves. also yes we took the guitar yes the Fitzgerald song happened several times of course of course. yes we are probably irritating yes.
- so-o we stayed at the Tahquamenon Falls state campground for a couple of nights (so many many trails and semi-trails to explore oh man oh yes), and from our site it was about a fifteen minute walk to the lower falls. around 10:30 the second night (after the park was technically closed), our mum proposed that we walk over, so she and i took the pitch-black and very deserted route to the falls. which was moderately terrifying for a bit, but holy damn was it beautiful. as… the falls on their own were well worth seeing (and smelling) in the dark, but the sky over the wide river below? that was what most stunned. holy fuck.
- not sure how i didn’t fall off one of the trees hanging over water or crossing gullies. my balance is awful. somehow it worked, though, which is probably a plus.
- our mum’s wanted a dog for a while, so my sister and i bought her a very small stuffed puppy in a very small pink and purple purse. she named it Edmund and took it around all over the place and introduced it to many an adventure. it was kind of fantastic.
- sometimes straying from the clearest path is absolutely the way to go. er. most of the time.
- watch out for erosion why are you riding your bike on erosion what is even happening.
- sister and i decided that our proper family designation is ‘The Worthless Shits.’ for some reason, our mum kept disapproving of this. hm.
- for a family with bendy ankles that tend to twist easily, we do a lot of clambering over precarious terrain. then again, most of the twists happen on flat ground, so….
- Superior was what you might call A WEE BIT CHILLY, especially since it was 60ish and windy. couldn’t feel the limbs after ten minutes at most. HURRAH.
- Superior was also directly across our site for the last few days. while this made for an excess of cold, it was also pretty beautiful, so it came off as a win. and oh, the fog. so much heavy fog, especially yesterday morning and the night before. dig it.
- RAVENS MANY RAVENS.
so those are some things that happened. all in all, ‘twas a fine time. will be nice to be not in close quarters with people, though. and to maybe (ahhah we’ll see) get brain into a gear.
i’ll be trying to catch up with things around here, though internet is still being a snail-slow shite, so it’ll probably take a while, and probably won’t happen as thoroughly as i’d like. BUT ANYWAY. i should be around or around-ish, and hope you-all’ve been fine and snazzy.
O-KAY going now bye now
will to be in the land of lakes and trees and absent internet for a week. catch you-all after. and ‘til then, be well and take care and watch out for falling catfish.
i could sleep
i could keep tossing songs onto a shiny new playlist yes that sounds like a fine plan.
"Wild is your way, and wild your soul,
Poor, broken instrument!"
— Henrik Ibsen, Brand [transl. Michael Meyer]
"In our quotidian lives, we live in constant repetitions of habitual patterns. […] Art should offer experiences that alter these patterns, awaken what is asleep, and remind us of our original terror."
— Anne Bogart, ‘Terror, Disorientation and Difficulty’ [published in Theatre of the Avante-Garde: 1950-2000, ed. Robert Knopf and Julia Listengarten]
please don’t ever talk about sticky pickles again unless you have a good reason or would be in a pickle if you kept quiet on the subject of sticky pickles then i guess you can talk about stick pickles all you want.
printed in the Altoona Tribune, 16 June 1924
i’d say this is Mickey, but you know what this guy’s actually doing yard work so never mind.
should i finish packing? PROBABLY.
but then i’d have to choose books and i don’t like choosing i just want to take every book is that so much to ask YOU NEVER KNOW what books my brain might want next week YOU NEVER KNOW.
french horn and mellophone caused my pinky fingers to become forever confused they do not know how to behave when pointing they do not know that they are not supposed to participate in pointing they are lost forever.
"[Art] should begin the process of freeing men by calling into doubt the solidity of objects—and laying bare the fact that it is a web of relations that exists, only; that web held taut in each instance by the focal point of consciousness that is separate individual consciousness."
— Richard Foreman, ‘How to Write a Play (in which i am really telling myself how, but if you are the right one i am telling you how, too)’ [published in Theatre of the Avante-Garde: 1950-2000, ed. Robert Knopf and Julia Listengarten]